


Bird in the Hand

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/OC fics [27]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Negan Being an Asshole (Walking Dead), No Fluff, One Shot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Short One Shot, Sir Kink, Smut, Squirting, Teacher Negan (Walking Dead), Vaginal Fingering, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: You’ve never been one to lose control. What can you say except Negan brings out the best – and worst – in you.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Series: Negan/OC fics [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1036898
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Bird in the Hand

**Author's Note:**

> You know that phrase “A Bird in the Hand is worth Two in the Bush”? Yeah, I’m sure you do.

"God, he annoys the everlovin' shit outta me," you hissed under your breath to your coworker Sherry as you waited for the copier to print your handouts.

"Who?" Sherry asked, not really paying attention as she mindlessly scrolled through Facebook on her phone.

"Who?" You parroted sharply, "Is that even a fucking question? Negan, obviously."

"Oh yeah," Sherry rolled her eyes. Her perfectly manicured French tips clicked softly against the screen of her iPhone8. "Obviously."

She must have heard you complain about him a thousand time before, but that didn't stop you from launching into a detailed list of complaints you had prepared today – and it was only lunch. "This morning he was late for parking lot duty, and then when I called him out on it, he just told me to chill out. What the fuck? I'm totally fucking chill." To prove your point, you hammered your fist on the copier machine, urging it to go faster. "Have you seen that fucking shit-eating grin he wears? God, I fucking hate it. Smug asshole."

With a small huff of amusement, Sherry suggested, "Have you ever considered that that smug asshole might have a point about you?"

"What do you mean?" You glanced at Sherry out of the corner of your eye, still simmering lowly with annoyance.

Sherry lowered her phone and pinned you to the copier machine with an exasperated expression. "You were born with a stick up your ass." You bristled, but before you could defend yourself, Sherry added, "Maybe if you got laid…"

That took the wind out of your sails. You didn't want to admit it, but it had been a while for you. At first you didn't think anything of it. Everyone goes through a dry spell here or there, and since you were a high school teacher you had to avoid some of the usual dating apps once you hit the dating-market again. You had tried Tinder, and you got Super-liked by a former student immediately, prompting you to delete the app. All that really left you with was the local bar scene, which wasn't somewhere you wanted to spend your Friday nights when you were loaded down with papers to grade.

"Uh-huh," Sherry's voice slightly startled you, too loud in the wake of silence left behind by the copier machine as it finished spitting out your handouts, "That's what I thought."

You ignored her as you gathered up your handouts, needlessly examining them for any errors and enjoying the warmth of them in your hands. "I got to get to class," you murmured, but Sherry caught you by the elbow before you could make your escape.

"Wait, come on, let's talk about this," Sherry coaxed, not quite apologizing to your wounded pride, "You're always chewing my ear off about how much you hate Negan. Now let me tell you a few things about him."

"Okay." You crossed your arms. "Enlighten me."

Tucking her phone away now that she had your full attention, Sherry straightened up into her lecture pose with a sly smile. "You know how you can tell which of the students are crushing on each other?"

"Yeah," you answered, not seeing her point.

She deflated a little at your laconic response, but only a little before she continued. "Well, have you ever thought that the reason Negan antagonizes you so much is because you wanna jump his bones?" Sherry bluntly asked.

Blinking at Sherry, you considered what she said, and then immediately shoved away all those complicated feelings you drudged up. "No," you scoffed, making a show of rolling your eyes and turning away to signal to her that you were done with this conservation. "He's a dickhead, and I'm not desperate. My vibrator will do fine."

"Who said it was one-sided?" Sherry asked too loudly, and you swung around again, nervous of anyone – especially a student – that might overhear.

"Look, Negan hits on anything with a skirt – sometimes not even a skirt. Why should I take his attention as a compliment or anything other than general fucking horniness?" You whispered-hissed, "He's a fucking horndog." Then you left, quickly shutting the door to the teacher's lounge behind you as you beelined for your classroom.

And promptly ran into Negan.

You bounced off of his (hard, muscular, defined) chest and nearly fell back on your ass if he hadn't steadied with his hands on your elbows. "Where are you off to in such a hurry? Fucking detention?"

With a sigh of disgust, you jerked out of his grip once you were surefooted again. "None of your business." You looked up at him defiantly, feeling ever too much like a child, not unlike what Sherry pointed out to you. In comparison, Negan looked all too smug, hair perfectly gelled. It annoyed you to no end that someone could look so stylish in clothes like grey sweat pants and a white t-shirt. Some people had all the pretty privilege.

"No? None of my fucking business? Are you sure it doesn't have to do with you talking about me behind my back?" Negan asked, not really sounding angry about it.

Curling your lip at him, you pushed past him on your way to your classroom again. "What makes you think I would waste my breath or valuable time talking about you?"

"So, when I heard you say 'horndog' that meant you weren't talking about me?" Negan asked, following after you. His long legs made it easy for him to keep pace, and with him looming just at your peripheral vision, it was hard to concentrate. When you dared to sneak a peek, you noticed that he had his hands shoved in his pockets, which only brought that much more attention to his…package.

Quickly, you looked away again, trying to draw attention away from your flustered nature as you blustered. "Hasn't anyone told you? The world does not revolve around you, Negan."

He chuckled, a sound that you were sure was what dark chocolate would make. "I love when you talk dirty to me, sugar tits."

"Don't call me that!" You snapped. "I don't know why I haven't reported your ass for sexual harassment yet."

"Hey, you shouldn't curse so much, sweetheart," Negan teased you, unbothered by your threats as he switched to his other nickname for you. You liked this one much better. Negan flirted with almost every teacher. You just happened to be the only one who didn't enjoy his attentions so much.

"That's rich coming from your potty mouth. Was 'fuck' your first word?"

Negan didn't miss a bit in the banter. "No, 'shit' was." He stepped in front of you, and you once again bounced off of his hard chest. While that annoyed you, it only made a shit-eating grin split Negan's face in half.

"Why are you always in my way?" You growled, though no attempt at intimidation had any sort of effect on him at all. It never did. All Negan ever did was laugh at you as if you were the funniest comedian in Vegas.

"Well, it's either your way or the highway with you, sweetheart." He tilted his chin up, exposing all that long throat coated with a salt-and-pepper dusting of five o'clock shadow that made your mouth water. "I think you need to learn to fucking relax and ease your panties out of that ass-crack. Let someone else have control of your bossy breeches for once."

Suddenly, all of the playfulness was sapped away from his tone as he ducked his head closer to your face. His breath was warm and sweet against your cheeks as he murmured, "You need someone who will take you over his knee and spank that little attitude out of you. Someone who knows that you only act so big and bad and rough and tough because you want someone to worship the ground those pretty feet walk on. Someone who treats you like a princess…but fucks you like a dirty two-cent whore. You're dying to lose control; you just need someone to step up and take those reins. Don't deny it, sweetheart. Tell me you don't want a screaming orgasm to make all of this go away."

You should have been disturbed by how a statement like that made your heart jump in your throat in anticipation rather than horror, but you couldn't stop the full body tremor that passed through you. Still, you pushed past that as you forced yourself to say, "What? And you're the one to do it?"

"Sweetheart, I'll take you up on that offer," Negan replied all too easily, his eyes smoldering at you from underneath those long, dark eyelashes.

"I, I wasn't offering," you stuttered, and stepped around him again. Only to notice that he was blocking the entryway to your classroom. Annoyance once again fortifying you, you pulled yourself up to your full height against him, and you needed that extra strength when all that did was pull Negan closer into your personal space. "The only thing I'm offering you is – is –" Huffing, you threw up your middle finger at him with your free hand, your other hand furiously waving your worksheet copies. "Now get out of my way and go back to your stinky gym!"

Ignoring just how much you sounded like one of your students, you swatted him to the side and escaped inside the safety of your classroom, Negan's chuckles following after you.

* * *

The rest of your day was mostly uneventful, though your students did catch you daydreaming a few times. It was a good thing they weren't mind-readers themselves or they would never let you live it down about your attraction to their favorite gym teacher. In fact, you were sure more than a few of your female students would rip your head off for daring to think of him that way.

By the time you were home, you could barely concentrate on your grading. Negan's words reverberated around your skull like the bass to a metal song, impossible to drown out, and so catchy – tempting – that they were impossible to forget. It had been so long, too long, since you've had a good fuck. In fact, you don't think you've ever really been fucked. Was there ever a point in your life where you completely trusted the one you were with to handle your heart with care as much as they could handle your body like the finely tuned instrument of sex it was?

You hated that it had to be Negan who drudged all this up inside you, but Sherry was right. He was drop dead gorgeous, and with a swagger like that, you had a feeling that not only was he packing, but he knew exactly how to use it. Exactly how to use you.

The more you sat there thinking about it, the more and more ink spots splattered on your papers than actual markups. Eventually, you pushed your work to the side, deciding that your students will just have to wait to hear back on their tests. Without thinking as to why, you found yourself calling Sherry. Since her phone was perpetually in her palm – worse than any of your students – she answered on the first ring. "Well, this is unexpected," she said in lieu of hello, "What's up?"

"Did you really mean what you said today?" You asked without preamble.

"You know when I tell my students that I can't get political with them because of the school's policy of neutrality, what I really mean is that I didn't care enough to vote in November, right?" Sherry started to ramble about her government class. You forgot that she always got more than wine glass deep this late at night. "I mean I'm still regretting it."

"No, that's not what I'm referring to, Sherry. I meant what you were telling me about Negan." You grimaced at yourself as soon as you said it. Sherry was going to be insufferable now. And you were right as her laughter rang in your ear across the phone. "I guess I owe you an apology about him."

"That's not necessary. You know I've got thick skin, but I do consider myself an expert in all things Negan." There was a pause on her end as you imagined her taking a hearty gulp. "You know he was the reason I got a divorce from Dwight?"

"Yeah, but you had that prenup so it works out, right?" You remembered only then that before you were hired Negan and Sherry were an on-again/off-again thing. When you asked Sherry about it, she claimed it was purely sexual, and since Negan started torturing you as fresh meat for the past year and a half, she has yet to rekindle any flames with Negan. You were definitely grateful, not that you ever told Sherry. Despite her less than stellar attitude, she was one of the few coworkers you could consider a friend, and you'd be damned if you'd let a man – especially Negan – get in the way of that.

Still, you brought the conversation back on track. "You think Negan actually likes me?"

"God, you sound like Stacy Gardner, the little twit," Sherry laughed at you. Before you could get too upset, she smoothly moved on. "I do think he likes you, mostly because you've yet to fall into his bed and fawn over him like the rest of us did."

Your heart fell. "Oh, so if I were to sleep with him, this all would just go away?"

"I mean, he's not a rash. More like, you'd get attached and Negan would have to cut you free like a diseased limb."

"Sherry, you make it sound like you were the one who got emotionally involved with him," you said as diplomatically as possible, something that was clearly wasted on the Government teacher.

"I might've been at one point, but I learned my lesson. Not important." The bite in Sherry's tone let you know to not go down that avenue. "What is important is that I know exactly what you're thinking."

You straightened up in your seat because you really, really didn't know what you were thinking when you caught feeling this way. "What am I thinking?"

"You're thinking about nailing his ass to the wall." Sherry guffawed, and it sounded like it was echoing in her half-empty wine glass. "Or he should nail you to the wall. Am I right? He's a good screw, you should try it sometime. Maybe even tonight?"

"Tonight? Come on, Sherry, you must've have had a whole bottle. It's too late for any of that."

"What are you talking about? It's half past six!" Sherry defended herself. "Have you been drinking?"

"No, I can't grade when I'm drinking," you explained. You tried it once and it completely ruined the scale for your midterm. Not a good first year experience, but your classes definitely didn't mind.

"Great. What are you wearing? Don't tell me you're already in your pajamas on a Friday."

You looked down at yourself. As soon as you made it inside, you had stripped off your teacher's blouse and pencil skirt for a pair of ratty sweats and tank top. "So what if I am?"

Sherry's groan was so loud in your ear that you had to jerk your phone away. "How long will it take you to get ready? Something slutty? Maybe a lipstick that's not a nude?"

It only took a second for you to add up the time in your head. "Maybe half an hour? An hour with a shower."

"Oh, you'll definitely need to shower," Sherry insisted. "You've got to shave!"

"Shave? Like above the knee?"

"Definitely above the knee. Legs, pits, and pussy."

"Okay, maybe a little more than an hour."

"You think you can make it to the bar on 45th by eight?" Sherry asked.

"What are you suggesting? That I just go pick up some random person to fuck to get Negan out of my system?" You scoffed.

"I was thinking more like you fuck Negan to get him out of your system."

"That kind of defeats the purpose." Your brain finally caught up to your ears. "Wait. You're setting me up with Negan?"

"Why not? You'll never know if you don't try. Just, use condoms and try to take a cranberry pill afterwards."

You were more excited than you were horrified. After profusely thanking Sherry, who only made you promise that you would find a way to make it up to her another time, you rushed to get ready. Your shower did take forty-five meticulous minutes of shaving and soaping down every square inch of your body. Lucky for you, you didn't really have the chance to agonize over what to wear because you only had one set of matching bra and panties, which could pass as lingerie because of how uncomfortable it was to wear. Although, the bra did frame your assets really well. Then it was a matter of mastering your hair and throwing some color on your face before you were out the door in your rarely worn pair of strappy heels that were just a little too tall to be manageable in the halls of a high school.

* * *

The traffic was with you as you made it to the bar at exactly eight. From your position behind the wheel, you craned your neck checking out the parking lot, half expecting to see Negan directing traffic like he sometimes does at the school. Of course, he wasn't there, and after a few calming breaths, you headed inside.

For a Friday night, it was decently crowded. It helped that instead of karaoke, there was a live band, probably their first big gig out of the garage. The band had good taste in beats, but you couldn't make out a single word of the singer. You were a little annoyed that despite being freshly showered, perfumed, and deodorized, the place still reeked of cigarettes as you made your way to the bar, weaving between the four occupied pool tables and the writhing, milling bodies of the tipsy dancers.

When you made it to the bar, your anxiety had definitely ramped up. Why hadn't you asked Sherry to meet you here? Why had you even agreed to it? Would Negan even show up or would he stand you up?

"Well, look at you."

_Speak of the devil._

You spun around to find Negan crowding at your back. He was dressed up and dressed down. Dressed up because he was wearing a pair of form fitting grey jeans, and dressed down because he was wearing another identical white T-shirt, this time with a black leather jacket. You had to admit that though he may have a million of those shirts, he definitely pulls off the look well with how defined his pectoral muscles are. You should know how hard those wear since you bounced off of them twice today.

"I didn't even know you owned a fucking skirt as short as that." Negan grinned at you, looking completely like wolf ready to devour you. "Damn, sweetheart. You've got me half-hard already."

And you thought he had no filter at school. "So, um, I guess Sherry filled you in?"

Negan snorted, leaning his forearms on the bar top beside you. Still, his eyes never left your form, roving up and down your bare legs. "You can say that. You can also say that Sherry told me that you want me to fill you up." Not skipping a beat, he held up two fingers at the bartender.

You stared at him in disbelief before the clatter of the beer bottles on the wooden top pulled you out of it. Grateful for the speediness of the bartender, you grabbed your liquid courage and took a long pull, nearly emptying the bottle on the first go. Negan watched you with that same smile on his face, a hunger in his eyes that made your knees weak. After gasping for air, you slammed your bottle on the bar top and turned to him. "So, are we gonna do this or what?"

For the third time today, Negan laughed at you. "You're eager. I fucking like that." He sat up to his full height again, once more crowding into your space. "But let's get one thing straight. You're not in charge here, sweetheart."

Putting on a brave face, you didn't shy away. "We're both consenting adults here, Negan. No one is gonna be bossing anyone around."

Negan startled the bravery out of you just by touching his fingertips to your chin. "That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. You didn't come to me to be seduced like some fucking young scamp. You came to me to get fucked." As soon as he withdrew his fingers, you realized you desperately needed air, lungs burning from holding your breath. "If you still want to get fucked, you meet me in the men's restroom. I don't see you there, I'll know you've pussied out. I'll leave you the fuck alone from now on."

He turned his heavy gaze away from you to take a sip of his beer, and you smarted from the dismissal, from being ignored. Negan then took his beer with him as he brushed very deliberately past you for the men's room in the back. Suddenly, you were aware that you were in a very crowded place, and you looked around nervously, wondering who caught that, afraid of who might of overhead you allowing a man to talk to you like that. No one was looking at you, not even the bartender who was busy further down.

By all means, you should have turned right around and left. Whatever urges you had could be satisfied by your vibrator. Just the thought of that, though, made you frown. Life would go back to being boring without Negan. There'd be no color from your bantering. And the awful mood that you incubated in every day of your life would just get worse.

Your feet started carrying you after Negan before you were aware that you even made a choice. Of course, there really was no choice to be made. You wanted to be fucked, and Negan was the only one who could scratch that itch.

Before you could lose your nerve, you pushed into the men's room, which was thankfully empty. If you and Negan had agreed to meet in the women's room, there would've never been any privacy between the oscillation of crying drunk girls and girls touching up their makeup. But it seemed the men's room was completely empty because you didn't see Negan at all. "Negan," you whispered-hissed.

Suddenly a stall door swung open and Negan waved his arm at you, encouraging you to come inside. "Didn't think you'd come," he mused aloud, "but I'll be having you coming again in no time."

As if you were following the song of a siren, and despite the fact that you were in a less than stellar men's room where you didn't even want to consider what was making your shoes stick to the floor, you practically floated over to Negan's side. It was a tight squeeze once he shut the stall door, but before any discomfort could settle underneath your skin, Negan pulled you against his chest.

His fingers once again touched your chin, and that was the last gentle touch he had for you. Negan's fingers tighten across your jaw until your mouth gaped at him. Then he was holding you in place for a ravaging kiss. You should have known that Negan was going to go for tongue on the first date. Hell, this wasn't even a date. It was a hook-up, and Negan wasn't going to let you forget it.

He quite literally stole the breath from you, chasing your tongue until his own tongue was trying to crawl down your throat. His mouth was pressed against yours so hard that you were sure your lips would be bruised the next day. When you tried to pull away for air, Negan chased after you with punishing nips to your lips with his sharp teeth, growling. The hand he had on your chin was readjusted for your neck, which he squeezed until you gasped.

"Early today, you were a very bad girl, sweetheart," Negan told you, forcing you to look him in the eye. "I think you know what the fuck I'm talking about, don't you? Answer me!"

A shiver passed through you, and your voice was high and reedy as you answered, "I was mean to you. I said some things. And I gave you the bird."

"That's right." Negan looked too pleased with your answer. He nearly gave you whiplash with how he pushed you off of his hard, hot body against the opposite wall of the stall, cool against your back. Without preamble, he wedged one of his legs between yours, using his grip on your neck to lift you higher into the air until his knee dug into the apex of your thighs underneath your skirt. The rough contact pressed your panties flush against your pussy, slightly tucking it between your lips. You were already a little wet before in excitement, but now you could feel just how wet you were. It wouldn't take long before you'd be so wet that you'd stain Negan's pants. Just the thought made all your muscles turn to jelly.

"You've been such a bad girl, giving me the bird," Negan chuckled darkly, and then pressed his thumb against your lips before you could defend yourself or apologize. "Since you gave me the bird, I think it's only fucking fair I give you one back."

He took his free hand and waved his long, long fingers in front of your face. Then he sucked his middle finger into his mouth, lathering it with saliva liberally. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'? I've never thought about it much 'til now, but I have a feeling you won't be doing a whole lot of thinking soon."

That was the only warning he gave you before he was pushing your skirt up and moving his knee out of the way. He didn't even bother to push your panties down your thighs. Instead, he just pulled the crotch of the panties out of the way, laughing at how wet you are, before sliding his middle finger between your sodden pussy lips. You groaned at the contact, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and then you felt Negan search for your clit, only fumbling for a moment before he landed on it with deadly precision. His middle finger swirled around it, teasing you, going too slow for you as all you could do was squirm.

"Negan, please," you begged. You didn't want to beg, but you had to.

"Bad girls don't get to call me that. You call me, Sir. You know why?" not waiting for you to guess, he told you, "Because I'm in charge, little girl. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

He grinned wolfishly again. "Good girl."

Then he finally lowered his middle finger down, down into your slick passage. His middle finger was so much thicker than your finger, and much longer, too. He twisted it around until he had the heel of his palm massaging into your clit as he started ruthlessly pumping his finger in and out.

You threw your head back against the wall of the bathroom stall with a resounding crack, so hard that you saw stars. What Negan's middle finger was doing between your legs, though, already set your head spinning. Unable to move except for thrashing your limbs, you stared at the water-stained ceiling and moaned, long and loud, not caring who heard you getting fingered in the men's room.

Just one middle finger was so much better than your vibrator.

"That's right, sweetheart. Let them all hear you scream for me," he gloated and encouraged, curling his finger just right inside you. Without difficulty, Negan found what he was looking for as he started stimulating that spongey spot in your channel.

The change was instantaneous in you. With the toes of your heels scraping the floor and the muscles in your inner thighs trembling, you could feel the beginnings of your orgasm deep in your belly. It was a building heat, a tightening in your abdomen, something so big that you hadn't felt coming in a long time.

Somehow, though, you knew you couldn't come just yet. "Sir, I'm gonna come," you confessed, practically wheezing, "I'm so close." Tears sprung to your eyes, though they didn't fall, instead clinging to your eyelashes, clumping your mascara.

"You wanna come, sweetheart?" Negan taunted you, only increasing the twists of his wrist and the pumping of his finger.

"So bad, Sir," you sobbed now, gnawing at your tender bottom lip. Your tears streaked down your cheeks, ruining your makeup and staining your skin with mascara. "Please, Sir. Please let me come."

Negan did not hush you, and he did not brush your tears away. In fact, he seemed to relish in how you were falling apart in the palm of his hand, literally. "Do you promise to be fucking good for me?"

"Yes, Sir!" Your voice rose in pitch and intensity as you were having to beat back your orgasm now. For some reason unfathomable to you in that moment, you did not want to displease him or misbehave.

"Do you think you can be my good girl and do as you're fucking told?"

"Yes, Sir! Just for you, Sir!" You promised. You would have promised him anything in that moment.

"Then I want you to come for me, sweetheart. Right fucking now!" He ordered.

And you were helpless to obey. You came with a shout, and if the venue you were at were of a higher reputation, maybe people would've come rushing in out of concern. As it was, you didn't care who came running, because the only thing you could focus on was coming. It was like this rubber band that had been strung along the nodules of your spine, holding you upright and accountable to all your responsibilities, suddenly snapped. You were left more than boneless, but completely spent, pleasantly warm, and tingly all over.

When you came to, you had nearly sagged to the floor, your feet sliding from underneath you. Your panties were still pulled to the side, uncomfortably digging into your skin, and you felt sticky and overstimulated. Negan had bothered to shove your skirt down. Instead, you watched as he smugly licked every digit of his hand clean, eyeing you all the while. Even though he just came, watching the way his clever tongue diligently licked up every bit of your juices just made you want to feel his sinful mouth against your cunt doing the same. You drew in a much-needed breath deep into the very bottom of your lungs, and the fresh oxygen cleared your head. You didn't know what to say.

Lucky for you, Negan was never at a loss of words. "You just squirted for me, sweetheart, so be careful not to slip on your own mess on the way out." He flashed his teeth at you, the gesture so unfriendly, and yet so sexy. "All that from just one little bird. I can't wait to see how your pussy takes my fat cock."


End file.
